


gut

by freakedelic



Series: NonconWhumpKinktober 2020 [24]
Category: DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Begging, Branding, Gore, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Noncontober 2020, Sensory Deprivation, bad medical practice, woundfucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:28:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26649817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakedelic/pseuds/freakedelic
Summary: Sensation. Too much, too soon, overwhelming his receptors with painpainpain even though it is nothing he has not felt before.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Series: NonconWhumpKinktober 2020 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917016
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	gut

**Author's Note:**

> this is like a sequel, robin is STILL a bad pet who is STILL kept in the box to atone for his crimes.  
> noncontober day 24: woundfucking, whumptober: blindfold/sensory deprivation, kinktober: branding, sweat

The nothingness is cut through once again with feeling. It seems like only minutes ago that he was taken out before, but it could have been days, too. Everything blurs except for the sensation that Slade gives him when he deigns to take him out to use him. Sometimes Robin craves it, would do anything for more touch against his skin. Sometimes the thought of feeling anything ever again makes him want to be _dead_.

As in everything, he simply does not have a choice. He shivers at the cool air on his skin as Slade slides him onto what feels like the bed. It feels unspeakably rough against his skin. _New_. Now, he shivers, pressing his legs together as his fingers dig into the sheets. There’s no way to know what’s coming.

The pain explodes on his thigh. He screams, silently into the world that he is not a part of. The sound might exist, somewhere, but all Robin knows is the vibrations in his lungs as the air leaves him in a long yell.

It’s cold and sharp. A knife. Slade’s old pocketknife, perhaps, or his combat knife if he wants to go deeper. Parts of it aren’t so deep but parts of it dig through fat and muscle. The blood sinks down into the bed below, staining him. It is hot on his skin. Sensation. Too much, too soon, overwhelming his receptors with _painpainpain_ even though it is nothing he has not felt before. More screaming, the sheets rough against his skin. A calloused hand plasters itself on his chest. Impossible strength pins him in place like a butterfly in a collection.

The knife leaves. Fingers replace it, tracing the cut. They dig in and Robin _writhes_. They scissor, opening more of his insides up to the air. He can feel the cold on his muscle, in places that the air should not be. It tears further open along the seams as Slade adds a thumb, blood pouring out of him and making everything simply _wet_.

Robin knows what the ending will be. He doesn’t have to look in Slade’s eye or hear his fly unzip to anticipate the feeling of something blunt rubbing against his inner bloody thigh. It makes him sob. He can feel his mouth forming the words to _beg_. They’re familiar by now. _Please, no, Master, I’m sorry, I promise._

When Slade thrusts his cock into the cut, tearing it open and burying himself in parts of Robin he didn’t know could feel, he swears he nearly throws off the hand holding him down in his arching, screaming agony. Blood splatters. If he could hear he’s sure there would be sick squelching noises as Slade pumps in and out. Fingers close around his thigh to get better leverage into him, pounding down with the force of a freight train. It makes the cuts bigger. Robin thinks it hits bone.

He screams and screams and he is all alone except for the pain pushing into him. What did he do to deserve this? Was he bad? Or is Slade simply using his body for his pleasure, as he always does?

Robin wants to ask but in the end there is no answer. No answer but come rubbing up against his insides, no answer but being pushed back into his keeping place with a hastily applied bandage and blood still drying on him. Back to nothingness, but this time, it has _pain_.


End file.
